


Kintsugi

by vinumxvitae



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Original Character(s), Short One Shot, extremely soft and self-indulgent nonsense, implied bone zone, look i just really like the time just around futamono ok, so just buckle in i guess, there's a lot of will graham angst in this one, will isn't directly mentioned but it's heavily implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25277458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinumxvitae/pseuds/vinumxvitae
Summary: Hannibal grieves a perceived betrayal. His lover comforts him, if only for a night.Set around the same time as "Futamono" (S2E6).
Relationships: Hannibal/Original Character(s), Hannibal/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Kintsugi

The thunder is close enough that each peal rattles the bone-china teacup sitting empty on the nightstand. The noise rouses Sabian from a deep, dreamless sleep; he fumbles for his glasses, his hand searching beneath the cool sheets for Hannibal.

He isn't shocked when the bed is empty. 

The house feels deserted. Loneliness hangs in every shadow and corner, only kept at bay by flashes of blue-white lightning. Sabian takes his time navigating the halls until he hears Hannibal's harpsichord lilting through the storm, hushed and somber, barely audible over the steady patter of rain.

Sabian can see by the way Hannibal holds himself that he feels wounded. His shoulders never slouch, but there's a decided lack of composure in his body language. His fingers drift across the keys aimlessly and a wine glass sits untouched on the bench beside him. It's a strange sight, one that Sabian finds as unsettling as it is upsetting, and he realizes after several moments of contemplation that he has no clue how to console him.

He puts the wine glass aside, positioning himself at the very edge of the bench as Hannibal pauses. 

"Do you remember what you told me about grief?" Sabian asks. "About how the waves are further apart once you get past the breakers?"

"To call this _grief_ would be sacrilege," Hannibal says softly. "Grief is a tangible thing. This feeling is...abstract and infuriating."

"Why have you let him wound you so?"

"I saw in him what I failed to see in you. I don’t regret the time I’ve lost, but I feel the wastefulness of it.”

Sabian reaches up to follow along with Hannibal’s playing, skimming his fingers along the harpsichord keys until he can pick out the melody. It’s half-hearted and slow, but the extra octave seems brighter somehow; Hannibal smiles, and Sabian feels warmth strike in his chest like a new match. 

“Not all your time was wasted,” Sabian says softly. “I won’t be so bold as to say it was well spent on me, but I wouldn't call it misspent, either."

"If only you had been in the majority of my attention."

"You know better than I do that _if only_ is a very poisonous conditional."

Hannibal pauses, reaching across the keys to capture Sabian's hand. He threads their fingers together loosely, turning his hand to and fro in the dim light, sweeping his thumb over the beauty mark below his knuckles. Sabian wonders to himself if Hannibal has counted them all by now or if he's still cataloguing them, but something tells him that he's mapped them all like a chart of the stars. Constellations, all of his making.

"There's some irony in that," Hannibal murmurs. "The majority of those conditionals revolve around things I wish I had done with you."

"Like what?"

" _If only_ I had spent my nights with you. _If only_ it were you at my dinner table."

"We have all the time in the world to make up for it." Sabian leans forward a bit, drawing Hannibal's hand up until it curls around his cheek instinctively. "Come back to bed, Hannibal. Don't give me another rain check."

The way Hannibal kisses him is almost apologetic. He can feel his fingertips skimming his jawline, drawing him a little deeper, all but lost in the spaces between breaths until lightning cuts through the room again.

Sabian jumps at the flash, then again when the resulting thunder rolls through the room with a percussive force. Hannibal's harpsichord strings hum in resonance, but for the first time in months, they share a laugh that feels sincere. 

"You are...exquisite," Hannibal says, pushing the curtain of Sabian's black hair away from his face. "Intelligent. And my ballast. I've taken you for granted."

"I beg to differ, but I won't stop you from trying to make it up to me."

Sabian keeps his word. 

Hannibal seems intent on making up for time lost; Sabian is fine with this, especially when it means his kisses are all the more praising and sweet. The sheets seem softer when he’s on his back beneath him. Hannibal’s hands feel warmer when they’re hooked beneath his thighs. There's a shift between them that's tangible and Sabian basks in the heat of it, drinking in wine-stained lips and the feeling of his own hair swaying against his skin as he rocks astride narrow hips. 

The rain is gone by sunrise. Sabian wakes to the sound of a bath running instead of thunder. The tea cup on the nightstand is filled and the bed is empty, but Sabian doesn't mind. 

Hannibal calls for him softly and he smiles to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, this doesn't really tie into anything that I'm working on, but I like the idea of Hannibal and my OC Sabian so much that I've jotted down several ideas with them. Sabian is part of a personal project that I'm working on; you can find out more about him on my writeblr (and see a sketch of him in a flower crown bc why not?) @vinumxvitae


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